Fleur la Belle
by May Liza
Summary: Some people would kill for beauty. She would kill to get rid of it. A story about Fleur Delacour.
1. Chapter 1

**_Fleur le Bella_**

AN: I am hoping that someone will help me translate this into French. For now, use your imagination (except in the very few places where there are a few snide bits of French…), because my French is atrocious! If you want to help me translate this, please, tell me in your review. Yes, I want reviews! (surprise, surprise!) It would be more true to Fleur's character. But, for now, here's the best I can do!

According to my French teacher, Mere is French for Mother (can anyone tell me how to get accent marks over letters?) and Fleur's middle name I thought was cute (Oisillon) because it meant "little bird." 'Mademoiselle France' is supposed to mean "Miss France"

And "Le Adorable Petite Sorciere" is supposed to mean the cute small witch. And, of course, Fleur le Bella means "Fleur the Beautiful" Only proper nouns will be French. Correct me on anything if I'm wrong. I need help with this one!

If you see anything in **bold **it would remain english in translation.

Summary:

Some people would kill for beauty. She would kill to get rid of it. A story about Fleur Delacour.

"She's been behaving a lot better, the past few months." Said the one doctor, looking in through the small window to where the girl sat, painting a picture of a forest with the watercolor paints her little sister had sent her through "censored" post.

"She never was _bad_," Observed the woman doctor, "She's always been very sweet."

"Why hasn't anyone fixed her yet?"

"She did something to it, so it won't wear off. We're still trying to figure out a counter course."

"That's such a shame. I heard she won 'Mademoiselle France'."

"Is that right?"

"You bet. You should've seen pictures of her. She was almost the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!"

A picture of her had come with her record, when she had been handed into St. Mungo's a year or so ago. Time didn't really pass her, Fleur observed. Yes, the sun set and rose, but everything seemed to be frozen.

For some reason, she liked it that way. No danger…she could just sit in her room with padded walls, and commit her life to nothingness.

Things didn't used to be so intricately simple…no, she used to live in a world much different from the white she was swimming in now. It was decorated with so many colors, you had to squint to see things clearly, and they always clashed and seemed to crash down into your eyes…no, things like that were never simple.

She tried not to remember…but sometimes…it came back.

"Fleur!" Her mother shrieked from the other room, and she sighed, latching her eyes away from the mirror, where she was making sure she was putting on lipstick correctly.

Her mother stood in the doorway, and Fleur observed her (something everyone seemed to be drawn to do…) her mother's delicate frame, fair, clear face, and long white blond hair, Fleur was convinced she didn't look older than twenty five. Although she was well past fourty.

"Fleur Oisillon!" Her mother gave her the up and down look, and her eyes absorbed something she obviously did not approve of, for her rare, pretty face went sour, so sour, Fleur swore she could smell happiness rotting, "I can't believe the pageant is today. Look at you!" She came over to Fleur to fuss, "You're not ready. You look like something I'd feed to the dogs."

Fleur always managed to seem incredibly happy with herself in public. She'd flounce around, smiling a smile that made the boys melt down to the floor, and the girls turn ripe green with bitter envy. She'd keep a somewhat snotty composure, to make it look like she was confident.

But no matter how confident she pretended to be, her mother smashed her act into a thousand pieces.

She always told Fleur she wasn't good enough. No matter how many times she felt the cold metal of a cheap crown messing up her perfected hair, how many pageants she won, it seemed like her mother would never be happy, like she was permanently rotted.

Isn't that what she wanted? She's been entering me in them since I was a small child…Le Adorable Petite Sorciere, was that the first one? I always won. So why wasn't Mommy happy?

"Haven't you been on a low carbohydrate diet, Fleur?" Her mother eyed Fleur's reflection critically.

She gulped, "Yes, Mere."

Her mother gave a sniff of contempt, "It doesn't show, now does it? You should probably try running more. Your stomach pokes out of your dress, don't you agree?"

She had lost that pageant. Her mother had been so angry, she had been only allowed to drink water and eat Low fat yogurt for nearly a week.

She didn't understand why her mother concentrated so much on torturing her. It was like she was out to make her life miserable, because hers was…

She tried to sympathize with her mother sometimes. She'd been bitter like a lemon ever since Fleur's father had left. He had only stuck with them for a little while, and even when he was there, he wasn't really. He was working on papers, or reading papers, very involved with the ministry. He worked "late nights" and went to dinner a lot with "colleagues" It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.

The affair was revealed a little while before Gabrielle was born. He thought there was someone more beautiful than mother? This had never happened to her before…They argued and argued, but she could not convince him to stay. Mother had always been seen as some kind of goddess in the eyes of men. She could always get what she wanted, because she seemed to be on some other level, above other women. She wasn't used to someone _not wanting _her! It was unthinkable for the only man she'd ever truly loved and lusted after, did not want her just as much, even more.

So, she didn't think about it. She didn't want to believe she wasn't good enough. So she concentrated on Fleur, on her imperfections, her problems, wanted to make it so _she'd always be wanted!_ She lived her life through the small, frail body of her ten year old daughter.

Fleur didn't understand this until her therapist convinced her it must be true, she had always wanted escape the grasp of her mother.

But had she? When her mother went away, could she live her own life? Or would she just be a limp, lifeless body?

Fleur felt herself jump when she for a second when she thought she spotted herself walking outside. But, no, she did not look like that anymore. It was Gabrielle. She was waving, and smiling.

She waved back, she smiled back. Well, not really smiled, she wasn't really capable of that these days.

A nurse with a crinkled, kind face let her into Fleur's room, and her sister rushed over to where she sat on the bed, embracing her so tightly, Fleur thought she might fall to pieces when she let go.

"Oh, I've missed you so much, you don't understand!" She beamed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"So, how's living with Rachel and Peter?" She asked stiffly, flatly, and Gabrielle darted her eyes away from Fleur.

"It's good, I suppose. My English is better, I suppose. London is great; they have so many places to go. I've made lots of friends, and Peter and Rachel make sure I get everything that I need."

"English, huh?" Fleur laughed, "What can you say?"

"All sorts of things."

"Let's hear."

Gabrielle shook her head, exasperated, but said, "**Ze rabbit is fuzzy.** Umm…" She paused, placing her finger to her chin, "**Do you tink zis 'at is ugly? Two coffees, if you please**."

Fleur clapped, laughing, "More than I knew at fourteen."

"Well, I do know more. But, you know. There _are _lots of people who speak French in London. Everyone's surprised I do not speak English fluently! Most children from France are taught English in school, most of the time along with Dutch or German."

"Ah, but Mere home schooled us." Fleur tried to smile, but her lips just quivered. "Mere was stubborn about us and French.

Gabrielle nodded, her throat closing up at the mention of their mother. She had died when Gabrielle was ten, and Fleur nineteen. Fleur's mother hadn't been sweet or kind or caring, but she had been their mother, and although she had definitely not been the best mother, they still missed her.

"Sorry, didn't mean to bring her up." Fleur said quietly, and Gabrielle brushed a bit of silverfish hair out of her face, shaking her head.

"No, it does not matter…Tell me, how do they treat you here?"

"Well, like a baby, of course. I am a loon, remember?" Fleur gave an awkward laugh, but Gabrielle barely smiled.

"Don't say that. You're not crazy Fleur."

"Well I'm not sane."

"It was an accident!"

Fleur narrowed her eyes darkly at her little sister.

"Above all other things, little sister, it was not an accident. Not an accident at all."

According to my French teacher, Mere is French for Mother (can anyone tell me how to get accent marks over letters?) and Fleur's middle name I thought was cute (Oisillon) because it meant "little bird." 'Mademoiselle France' is supposed to mean "Miss France"

And "Le Adorable Petite Sorciere" is supposed to mean the cute small witch. And, of course, Fleur le Bella means "Fleur the Beautiful" Only proper nouns will be French. Correct me on anything if I'm wrong. I need help with this one!

Please, tell me what you think! I'd like to know. I see another dark, depressing fic coming on…dun dun dun! I'll make sure to update soon. I await your response : )

Disclaimer: Almost forgot to tell you, I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I own absolutely nothing I'm writing about (well, the thigns you recognize.) All right, go review!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Fleur, Beauxbatons, or anything else thought up by JKR. However, I _do _own the personalties of most of the characters (Gabrielle, her mother, etc) all OCs, and the plot. Yay!

Chapter 2

Seeing her sister again made her remember. Remembering hurt, it hurt a whole fucking lot. Some people say it's like pouring salt on an old wound, but for Fleur it was like being cut into again, bleeding again, _being wounded again._

She had a dream that night; only it was a dream that had happened, a few years ago…

Fleur was sixteen years old, and her seven year old sister tagged behind her like a talking, whining shadow. She didn't mind, most days.

Fleur tied her hair back in a braid, so she could bend over to pour tea in the plastic pathetic excuses for tea cups for her and her little sister. Gabrielle clapped and giggled every time she saw the hot liquid splash against the bottom of the cup, and begin to fill with beverage.

In the other room, her Aunt Georgette helped her Mere tie together the straps of her wedding dress. She had come down from the ever glamorous Paris to help put up decorations in the yard, find a priest and something old, new, borrowed and blue.

She'd be marrying a man named Dominic Delacour, letting his name pour over her old lover's (which had been Le Fevere, the last name that had been printed on her and Gabrielle's birth certificates. But since good ol' "Dominic" planned to adopt them after the marriage, they would not keep these names for long) surname, let herself pour into a new mold, one she thought she'd be happy in.

Fleur sipped her tea, wishing she was back at Beauxbatons. She'd been excused from her classes for a week by her beefy headmaster, Madame Maxime, who'd actually sent her mother a "Congratulations" Owl, because of this damn wedding, a wedding she did not want to attend.

Perhaps she would want to be at the wedding, if the man her mother was marrying wasn't a greasy muggle who seemed only to care about getting into her pants.

The dream flashed to a new scene. She was wearing a pale pink Brides maid dress, and hiding in the dark of the closet.

She could hear her mother roaming the house, shrilly calling out her name.

Fleur! Fleur! The reception is about to start! You must come have cake, come dance with you Grandfather!

Tears were streaming down her face, mascara blackening her rosy cheeks, sobs hurting her throat.

There had been an hour between the ceremony and the reception, so people could get organized to dance, sing drunken versions of sailor songs without music, and make speeches no one will remember or truly believe.

Fleur had been about to step out of her brides maids dress and into something more comfortable to dance around in, when Dominic stepped in.

Fleur gasped and he smiled as she stumbled to pull up the straps of her dress.

"Fleur. What a pretty name for a pretty girl." He smiled, and she blushed furiously…

She woke with a start, his face burning in her mind, that night burning in her mind, and she wished she could let go of it, how she wished…

Before she knew it the tears were falling, and the sun was rising. She couldn't start the day like this, she was supposed to be free here, she was supposed to be free.

Life was just too hard. She finally felt her sore joints and muscles when she stood, finally saw her ruined self in the mirror. Her skin, drooped, her eyes black with bags. The memories couldn't be forgotten today.

When a patient is very, very good and impresses everyone with their saneness, they get one day. One day to go out into the real world and act very not crazy, so you can wake up and enter that real world _every _day (if you behave on your one day that is.)

Everyone calls it "Judgment Day" The nurses and doctors call it "Visit Day."

"Fleur Delacour, because of your good behavior and progress, you are granted one visit day." Said the crinkled face nurse, professionally, smiling so her nose smooshed, "If all goes well with visit day, you will be released soon."

"Thank you." She said softly, nodding.

"Honey, maybe this will sound rude…but don't you want to take the curse off?" She said, peering at Fleur with honey suckle disgust.

"There is no counter curse." She said quickly, and swallowed down the sick sweet taste of lies.

"Of course, I forgot." She said flatly, and smiled, handing Fleur her pass. "Your guide will be waiting by the door."

"Mind me asking where you are going?"

Fleur smiled sweetly, "Yes." And swooshed best she could out of the room.

She was annoyed to see her guide was a man. Being raised by her mother, she had a certain opinion about men.

Sunlight streaked across her bedroom, lighting up the dust particles that bathed in the warmth. Fleur sat on her carpet, picking up marbles and counting them, then throwing them down again.

The day was lazy. She could hear Gabrielle crying in the other room, and her mother attempted to coo her into silence. She could hear the distant sounds of the birds looking for food down by the pond. She could smell the rain about to come and blot out the sun, and muddy the earth.

Then, she heard a new sound. It was her mother's pumps against the hard wood floor of the hall way, approaching her doorway.

Her mother did not smile when Fleur looked up at her. Something else was inked into her face.

"I need to talk to you, Fleur."

"Is something wrong, Maman?" She asked cautiously, approaching her mother, as she sat on the bed.

"I worry about you, Fleur." She said softly, "I don't want you to end up in my situation…"

Fleur was lost for words, and in her Mere's silence, all that was heard was the springs in her mattress as she uncomfortably shifted to and fro.

"Men…I suppose I should explain them to you. It's been a year since you're father's been gone."

"I know."

"Well, it doesn't matter Fleur. All men are like your Papa. They only care about one thing…They only want to keep women as objects for themselves. Like dolls. Do you understand?"

"I think."

"Well, _you _must learn to be in control of the situation. Never let any man take advantage of your kind heart. He will just crush it…Fleur, you are going to be a very beautiful girl. That will make men want you, sweetheart. But they are all pigs. Men are only using you. So, do the same. Use them to your advantage, don't let them own you. Promise me that."

Fleur looked at her mother, who was not looking at her, but was glaring at nothing, arms crossed. She was not really sure of what she should say. She didn't understand what her mother meant. She was scaring her, and she wanted her to leave.

So, she smiled, and said, "Of course, Maman."

Her mother smiled, and got up, and Fleur was left alone with her words.

She never really believed her Mere, all the men she had met were kind. She had loved her Papa, very much. She didn't understand.

Well, until she met Dominic.

Why hadn't her mother seen the monster in him?

The man did not look like much of a man though. He was younger than Fleur with a boyish smile and freckles dotting across his nose.

No, he wasn't a threat or anything.

"So, I'll be your guide today, my name is Nino." He was looking at her strangely, but Fleur was used to this. It wasn't everyday you saw someone like her…

"Fleur Delacour." She said softly, then adopted a business like manner, "I have three places I would like to go."

"Really? Let's hear then."

"My mother's estate."

"That's fine."

"London."

"Purpose?"

"Visiting my sister, Gabrielle."

He nodded, "The last place?"

"Beauxbatons School of Magic."

AN: Yay! Another chapter through with! I just want to clarify that her mother's opinion of men is not mine. I don't hate dudes; actually I like them very _very_ much. Make sure to tell me what you think, and REVIEW!, like these ones did:

Sk8ergirl:

Hey, glad you like! Here's an update!

Omg, thank you sooo much for the mother and father thing! As you can tell, I used it right away.

Sia:

Why, thank you! I did know Fleur meant flower, actually one of the very very few things I do know in French…ah, two years, and you still don't know much? That sucks. You're teacher must be lazy. Or since all you're learning is food, hungry all the time…hehe  j/k thanks so much.

Tekvah Ariel:

Actually, that's exactly what I want to do! I wouldn't leave my English readers in the dark. I love you all too much!

Thanks y'all


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own Nino, Marie, Dominic….is that it? Yeah, I think the rest is JKRs

AN: Omg, thanks for everyone's support, it really has been great. I have a few questions for you:

What would you think of a romance in this story? Too much? (it would make it longer though!)

How is the writing?

Are the flashbacks really beginning to piss you off? (Only one more chappie with flashbacks, I promise, Chapter four will be the end of them. And they will explain pretty much any questions you have at this point.)

Okay, to MY LOVELY REVIEWS:

SIA:

Wow, you've been around haven't you? Hehe. Hmmm I don't really know whether it's Academy. I looked in the book (too lazy to actually look thoroughly) and couldn't find it, so you're probably correct. Ah, well ;)

DRAGONFLYER:

Thanks. And OMG thanks for the tip! Do you know if it conjugates the sentences you put into correctly in the other language? Even if it doesn't, still very usefull. Cookie for you!

ARTLESS WITCH:

Oh, Okay, thank you very much. I will use your tippies. J

ZIMRA:

That's so cool, Fleur! (hehe I like saying that!) Thank you so much for the "hints" I used them, except, I was trying to say "Fleur: The Beautiful" instead of "The Beautiful Fleur" so it would be "Fleur la Belle." Am I right?

I didn't think you came off with a teachery attitude, and actually, I REALLY appreciate your help. It's really cool that you're Dutch, and I didn't find any mistakes in your English. You speak it quite well, actually. J

Vic, or Queen Miff, or Mum, or wtf you're calling yourself these days:

YaY! Thanks so much for reading this, and I'm glad you like it.

Ah, don't you love being mean to men? giggles hey, did Kelsey tell you she tried to pierce her nose? She said you'd say I told you so. Which you will…

BBBBBEA:

Yay, tanks. I actually got a few ideas from that book, as you will see later…Evil Grin

Fledge:

Yeah, I know! We really don't know much about Fleur at all, so I think it stupid that most people always make her the same…shakes head ah, well. Yup, he did. But you'll hear about that in the next chapter (And because of it, I'll probably have to freakin rate it R which like sucks. Don't worry, it's not like really GRAPHIC or anything, it's just…nevermind. Too much said all ready.) Hmm, I think I say somewhere that Nino is a brunette, but if I didn't, he can be whatever your little heart desires…hehe. AH! Sorry about the flashbacks. I can imagine they'd be annoying. But I feel it's the only way I can truly explain why things happen, and to explain why Fleur is the way she is is to see how she remembers it. Oh well. Don't worry, like I said only one more chapter of them! Yay!

KEEP READING AND SORRY THAT TOOK SO LONG! HERE'S THE CHAPPIE!:

Chapter 3

The home was well kept for having no one live there.

The acres spread spotless into the horizon behind the large home, which had been renovated from a barn years ago, into a clean, well furnished home that two little girls had grown up in.

But when the two girls had lived there, you could just feel it when you walked in. Laughter echoed against the walls, portraits of stick figure families decorated the bulletin board…and there was something you could not place, could not summon into an element. You could just feel…youth.

But now, when Fleur unlocked the door and stepped into the house she had called home not too long ago, it was dead. Walls blank, washed in white. She felt no connection when she first walked into the living room.

'Where am I?'

"Are you quite all right, Mademoiselle Fleur?" Asked her guide with concern that sounded vaguely real to Fleur.

Fleur turned to him, emptying her eyes of emotion, "I am." She said softly, and began to walk down the hallway, stripped of the portraits of the Le Fevere ancestors, stripped of flower wall paper.

'Where am I?'

It wasn't the same. Perhaps when she reached the corridors end, her room would disappear with everything else.

But, as if just to spite her, the door stood proudly, the hinges rusted and weak from her slamming the door so many times as a child, the door knob stained with her fingerprints. HER fingerprints.

She opened it, a smile warming her pale face. HER room.

Everything was in tact. The tea set, the canopy bed with ruffled sheets and blankets from the last time she'd slept there, her closet open, her desk with the lamp off, papers scattered and a drawer creaked halfway open. Pictures of friends lining the edge of her mirror, smiling, waving, reminding her of the colorful world she used to get lost in.

She ran a hand through her silvery hair, the strands untangling through her fingers. She touched her bed to see if it was real.

She felt the nostalgia she'd been expecting to capture her as soon as she walked in the house pumping through her veins. She couldn't do this, not yet.

"I'm going out to the yard." She informed the guide, or Nino as he preferred, who stood awkwardly in the frame of the door.

He nodded, following her as she slipped through the glass door, as she ripped into the tall grass with her trainers.

She reached the graveyard hidden by the shadow of the forest. She could always find it. All the Le Feveres lye beneath that earth. Many she had never met. She had been too young to remember moving into the house of her fathers, let alone his cold relatives.

It was ironic mother was buried here. It was not her family here, surrounding her corpse. It was the family of the man who had left footprints on her heart, had torn her to pieces. What kind of eternal rest was that?

She looked coldly as the guide, and he looked taken aback.

"If you could leave me alone for a few moments, please. I'd like to pay some respects to my Maman." She snapped, and Nino hesitated.

"I'm supposed to accompany you at all times, Mademoiselle."

"Look, I'm not going to try anything," She hissed darkly, "I am a human being. I believe I deserve a moment or two with my grief."

He sighed, and his Adam's apple bobbled up and down in that way you could tell a man was nervous. "I grant you a few moments. I'm very sorry for your loss. I lost my Maman only a few months prior this day."

She tried to find sympathy for him somewhere in her, but she did not have time to scrape around for useless emotions. She gave a sniffy nod, and turned toward the gravestone again.

_Marie Rosalind Delacour_

_Loving, Caring Mother and Wife_

Loving? Caring? She didn't know about that.

Beneath these knees I kneel on is grass, and earth, and the body of her beautiful mother. Voted best looking at Beauxbatons? Now she was nothing but rotting flesh melting off bones into the mouths of hungry maggots, hungry worms.

Sort of a peaceful way to go, people had muttered back and forth, looking at the angelic face across the dead body of Marie Delacour.

She buried her head in her hands, remembering the day very well.

She had owned many blacks robes, so that hadn't really been a problem.

"Black is slimming!" She had chorused cheerily, smiling that smile that everyone seemed to buy but Fleur.

She would never hear that voice again, never see that smile again. Just faded pictures, just a gravestone that lied to your face.

She had sat next to Gabrielle, held her hand, and listened to the priest talk of what a great person her mother had been, and how much she would be missed. Determined, absolutely determined not to look at him.

But everyone else did. They whispered fiercely not taking their gaze anywhere else.

And when she did look, he was looking at her. Smiling, and folding his hands in his lap. She quickly tore her gaze away, but his eyes burned into the back of her head the rest of the ceremony.

"He did it. Why isn't he in jail?"

"It's so obvious."

"I can't believe it. I thought he was such a nice man."

"Could never imagine being responsible for Marie's death."

If they only knew! They'd be staring at her like that. It was _her fault. _She shouldn't have let him, she shouldn't have let him.

She felt herself give out a low sob, and they spat their pity on her.

There she was, crying again. She was an empty nineteen year old girl again, completely empty. Completely at fault.

She couldn't do this again. She just couldn't.

She brushed the tears from her face, and stood up, walking to where Nino stood, looking lost.

"Let's leave."

Knock Knock Knock.

A woman with big eyes and a long neck answered the door, suspicion lurking across her face. She tried to smile as she led them to the Gabrielle's room, but her attempt was no more than a sneer.

"Gabrielle!" She squeeled, jumping over to her sister, and squeezing her tight.

"Hello, glad to see you!" She looked to Nino with a smirk, "Who's your man friend?"

Fleur rolled her eyes, a laugh in the bottom of her throat, "He's my 'guide.' Make sure I don't do anything bad."

"You want to go out for coffee?"

Fleur smiled brightly, "I'd love to."

"You know…" Gabrielle whispered, in mid giggle to her sister, "That Nino guy is pretty cute."

"Don't repulse me. Anyone who works at St. Mungo's can't be all good."

"Come on, Fleur, surely you're a bit interested?"

Fleur glared at her sister, "I really don't think that's an option for me right now. I mean, think about Gabrielle. If you want to pounce, you can. Though he is too old for you."

Gabrielle flushed, and Fleur felt a bit of guilt creep into her. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out that way." She glanced back at Nino, who was strolling not too far behind them, but far enough so he could not hear, staring dreamily at the tall buildings they passed.

"Look at him. Like a little child…" Fleur muttered, but felt some sort of intrigue with Nino's innocent outlook.

"Here we are."

The coffeshop was very small, and obviously a place for wizards since the daily prophet sat on one of the carefully cleaned tables, and Fleur found it quaint. She sat down, relishing in the dull lighting and sweet scent of coffee.

Gabrielle walked up to the counter, "Hey, Fleur, what will you have?"

"Decaf Coffee, I suppose." Fleur looked at Nino, who sat at a different table, playing with his pant pockets, and sighed, "Nino, what are you doing over there?"

"I wouldn't want to impose in your affairs, Fleur Delcour."

She felt a small smile creep unto her face, "Well, you can't just play around with your pockets all day! Come here, I'll order you a coffee."

Fleur decided that if she was going to have this man creeping behind her all day, she might as well be nice to him.

He grinned a mile wide, joining her.

"So, Nino," Gabrielle had obviously overheard Fleur beckoning Nino over, for she appeared with three mugs of steaming coffee, "What possessed you to work at St. Mungo's?"

"Well," Nino said, blowing on his coffee, "I suppose I just wanted to help people. I thought volunteering at the hospital would be a good start."

"You volunteer?" Gabrielle said, not grabbing the concept of why anyone would want to spend their time cleaning up vomit, changing old people's nappies, and calming down crazy people.

"Yes. I think it's very good to give back to your community."

"How long have you been with St. Mungo's?" Fleur asked, and he grinned that grin again.

"Only a week. You're my first job."

Fleur felt herself blush a bit. A job. For the rest of her life, people would just see her as a chore…people would feel special for volunteering their precious time being in her presence? Her face fell, and she ripped open another package of Sweet and Low, letting it fall into her cup.

She remembered how much she had hated being adored, wanted, and lusted after. How much she had hated being beautiful.

Was it worth it to be hideous? Was it worth it to be pitied? Was it worth it to be some job?

She couldn't decide, and she trembled back tears as another memory came to her…

One she swore she'd always forget.

laughs hysterically at cliffie…


	4. Chapter 4

AN: okay. Some of this might be very intense…should I change the rating to R? I can't really decide.

On another note, I am SOOO sorry my stupid updates have been taking SOOO long. Freshman year is very hectic, but I realized just the other day that it's been more then a month since I updated this fic, and even more with the others. For those who read my other fics (which you should!) Don't worry, I'll get on them soon too. For the rest of you, here you go!

To my lovely, patient reviewers:

Knight who says ni:

All right Mum. Hehe. Thanks

MissBlueAngel:

Thanks a bunch! I appreciate when readers are fans of more than one fic.

Kay:

Hope this chapter does that for you J

Ohawhim:

Thanks, sorry about the cliffie (but now don't you want to read this chapter more?? Hehe)

Lord Amber:

Oops, that was a typo. That's interesting that her name means flower of the heart. Hmm I'll try and incorporate that somewhere. J

PruneJuice:

Thank you thank you THANK YOU! I will email you when I am complete with the English version.

AmourLily:

Thanks so much, here's an update.

Susan:

Giggles…I know.

Moon Archer:

Yay! Someone who likes the flashbacks. Thanks.

Whimsical Archer.

Thanks!

Jade:

It's all revealed in this chapter. If you're still confused, review with your question and I'll answer it in the next chappie.

Thanks to all who reviewed, it REALLY makes my day! If it's not too much trouble, tell me what you think of this chappie too.

And on with the show!

Chapter 4

"You're so much more beautiful than your mother," His hot breath actually sent a chill down her spine when he gasped into her face, "Sexier. Hotter…Oh, god…"

She just let him do it now. She knew it would hurt more if she struggled. She knew he would hurt her if she struggled.

He rolled off of her, and she choked back tears in her when he didn't leave.

_No more, please…my bones are tired, my flesh is cold, my heart is dead…_

"Your mother is in the way, in the way of what could be between us." He brought his hand to her cheek, running his finger up to her temple, and running a hand through her silverish blond hair, and she held in the feeling to scream. "Don't worry baby, I'll take care of it. I'll take care of her. And then we can live happily ever after, okay?"

His brown eyes pierced into her, showing the lust he'd pressed into her the first day he'd seen her pretty face, the day her mother and him got married. She could feel her insides burn from his intensity, and she could barely choke down her horror.

Every night. Every night he'd come in. Fleur had not saved enough money yet to leave home, and of course her mother did not support her in that department, not wanting to let her out of her grip yet, so Fleur still lived at home. She was a waitress at the wizarding restaurant in the city during the day, and her mother worked nights as a nurse at a Witch's retirement home. Little Gabrielle went to bed around nine most nights, except on Saturdays when Mama did not work, and they all sat around and played chess, bouncing lazy talk off each other's ears. But, every other night, he'd come to greet here around ten, smiling like a man who had just shot ten rabbits, and saw another frolicking across the field.

Since the day he'd married her mother, every time they were ever alone, he'd rape her.

Perhaps it wasn't rape anymore. He didn't have to put a gun to her head, or beat her down onto the bed, or threaten to abandon her mother. No, she just lay right down and let him do what he wanted, so tired of fighting.

Maybe it was good he did this, so she could finally understand her mother's words. Men were nothing but violent pigs. They were capable of lust and want but never love. Never.

She didn't want to fight him, was too tired to make sure he didn't actually "take care of her mother." He wouldn't actually do anything. He had an easy ride right now: a wife during the day to cook and clean and fuss over him, and a young woman to fuck at night. Isn't that what every man dreamed of having?

But no, apparently that wasn't good enough for him. He had to have Fleur every second.

But she didn't care. She was a stupid, selfish bitch who didn't care for anyone else but herself.

She knew that when she came home to the ministry of magic the next day with pitying eyes, assuring her it would all be all right, they all felt terrible.

She knew that when she saw them drag her dead mother away in a bag, like trash to the curb.

She knew that when she saw him smiling like a maniac when they cuffed him up for questioning. His eyes glowing with that same light…and something else. Success.

Her mother was dead because she hadn't had the guts to keep fighting. Because she thought this was just the_ price _of being beautiful…

She wasn't going to let that happen again.

Months and months ago, they'd lowered her into the ground. She wanted to follow her, she really did…but that would be selfish again.

It was obvious what had been the cause of all this, wasn't it? Her mother had told her. Beauty is a gift, waste it, and it's a curse.

It was a curse, a curse that needed to be lifted. Her stupid stepfather wouldn't have thought he loved her if she was not beautiful. Her mother she'd never understood wouldn't have been blasted by the wizard hit man Dominic had hired because he knew just a gunshot wouldn't get her gone for good. Her little sister wouldn't be the most confused little girl in the world.

She wouldn't have had to do all those stupid pageants and strive to have to best marks, be the best player on the team, to be the person her mother wanted to go back to being.

Everything bad that had happened in her life, and to others in her life, had been because of the stupid veela blood coursing through her veins. None of this would have happened if she hadn't been so goddamned "Belle".

She sat on her floor, lighting her wand with a spell, then blowing it out. Again and again.

Was she going to do it or not?

She had seen a muggle woman once on the street when she was a young girl. She'd been terrified of her. Her skin was covered in burn marks, puffing and wrinkled, like an alligator or an elephant. All of her body parts looked like they'd melted off and burned for a little while before being pressed back onto her body.

"Oh, honey, it's not polite to stare. That woman's obviously been through an accident with fire. How…tragic." Her Maman had hissed at Fleur, glancing at the woman out of the corner of her eyes with disgust, obviously not finding it "tragic" at all.

If she only was as hideous as that woman, it would solve it all.

She was ready. She pointed the wand at herself, muttering the curse that could only be lifted by her, that prevented any injuries that would happen in the next ten hours to be healed by magic.

She knew there was nothing much they could do for burning in the muggle world (that woman being proof) so she knew no one could fix her.

She looked at the bottle next to her, reading "Gasoline." She'd bought it with muggle money from the gas station near where she worked. She tipped it above her frizzless head, the cool, sticky liquid pouring down her face. She closed her eyes and mouth, and let lit her wand on fire.

She swore that when the flames engulfed her, she didn't feel a thing. She didn't even scream.

But her sister did, when she found her sister on fire on her carpet. Nothing burning but her. Obviously she'd put anti burning charms on the room.

And when she poured water on her sister, killing the flames, although she would never admit it aloud, it was obvious her sister had done it on purpose.

Fleur breathed quickly, blinking back tears. She couldn't cry here, in front of Nino, or he would think she was crazy (perhaps she was) and she'd be stuck in St. Mungo's forever. No, she did as she always did, and swallowed it down.

She smiled weakly at Nino, and he stopped staring at her, and went back to Gabrielle who was speaking of her time at Hogwarts, a new school for her.

"You were right, Fleur, **'ogwarts** was much different then Beauxbatons…"

"You've been to Hogwarts?" asked Nino, grinning curiously at her.

She nodded, jumping away from the memories that stung and back into the conversation.

"Yes. Surely you know of the Triwizard Tournament?" Fleur asked, and he nodded, "Well, my seventh year I participated as one of the…four champions."

"Four?" He said, smiling.

"Surely you remember the circumstances with Mr. **'Arry Potter. **It was all over the papers."

"Oh, yes. Who hasn't heard of **Harry Potter?**" He laughed, and Fleur nodded, "You were one of the champions? That is very impressive."

"Back in my school days, yes." She said, laughing too, "But, that was a while ago…"

"Still, tell me about it. I'm interested now." He was giving her a dimpled face that made Fleur want to smile as wide as he was.

"Well, Harry Potter was very, very nice. He saved Gabrielle here even though he could have left her behind. Very brave, Harry Potter," she said, and Gabrielle nodded.

"As I would have expected. I mean, he did save us all from You Know Who just a few months ago, did he not?" Nino said nodding as well, and taking a gulp of his coffee.

"That poor boy has been through too much for his age," Fleur said sadly, "The tournament was a very strange experience."

She thought of how her mother had reacted when she lost. Oh, that had not been a good day. She cut her some slack because a boy had died, but still had that furiously disappointed look in her eyes.

"Where did you go to school, Nino? I would have known you if you went to Beuxbatons." Fleur didn't really want to think about her own school days anymore.

"Ah, I was not born in France. I've only lived here since graduation."

"Where did you live before, then?" Gabrielle asked, adding a fifth pack of sugar to her coffee. Fleur smiled lightly, wondering why Gabrielle had wanted to go out to coffee in the first place since she despised the drink. Perhaps she thought it was mature, or something…

"I attended a small all boys' school in Russia. My mother was from France, so I was raised speaking it, since my father left when I was young."

"If your mother and you both spoke French, why did you live in Russia?" Fleur thought she'd dig a little deeper into his business since he'd be plunging into hers all day.

"My mother was one of the Ministry's look outs for Dark Magic after the downfall of You Know Who in the early eighties. They were still a bit paranoid You Know Who might be somewhere, if not his followers, rebuilding strength. After a few a years, they let the assignment go, but my mother wanted me to finish my schooling in Russia, so she found work with the Russian Ministry." He said it all very quickly, and Fleur was surprised he told her so much.

"Was your father Russian?"

He nodded solemnly, and Fleur noted, a bit bitterly.

"I'm guessing you speak Russian?" Gabrielle popped in after a bit of ominous silence from her side of the table.

"Fluently."

"You're a lot more interesting than I am! I can barely speak English, and I'm living in **England**" She laughed, and Nino's grim face gained its warmth again.

"Oh, well, it always takes a while to pick up on a language, don't you think, Fleur?"

Fleur smiled, "Of course. It took me six years at Beauxbatons to learn English. And I speak it…well, not very well."

As the chitter chatter continued, Fleur couldn't seem to squash her curiosity in Nino. Couldn't help but stare intently when he spoke, care what he talked about. Couldn't help but feel something warm wash over her when he smiled, a shiver goose bump her skin when he look at her.

Fleur had never been a girl who got crushes. There wouldn't have been much point in it. Men were sniveling morons, and if she really _wanted _a boyfriend, or a lover, or _any _type of a relationship with a man, she could flash her smile, and flip her hair, and they'd be mad for her. Not that she had ever wanted anything like that.

But now…now that any romantic relationship seemed completely impossible, it seemed so much more desirable, so much more intriguing. If someone loved her the way she looked now, then they had seen something different in her. Something inside, beneath burnt skin, a fake smile, and teary blue eyes. It meant that they were different than all the men she'd come to understand. It meant they loved her for her, and not because of looks.

Her whole life, everything had been centered around the way people looked, the way she looked. Looks, looks, outside, appearance, beauty, ugliness. That was all everyone in the world cared about, wasn't it?

But it didn't seem like it, when Nino smiled her, like he could see nothing but her heart pumping, like he could see down into her soul and see it wasn't ugly like the rest of her. Like he could see something different than everyone else did…

It was a weird thing to conclude after only knowing someone for a few hours, and knowing little about them, but she decided it was about time to draw positive conclusions about people. I mean, that's what _normal _sane girls did when they met blokes, wasn't it?

She was beginning to get bored with self pity, playing with people's hearts the way _he _had done to her. She was getting tired of being treated like a baby, she was beginning to miss the color now that she had seen it again, now that she had felt it swirl in the pit of her stomach, churn in her heart.

She was beginning to get bored with her old life, so she decided she was going to say good bye to it today, or at least try to.

Disclaimer:

Okay, I don't own anything you recognize from the book. The thing Fleur did to herself was slightly inspired by Girl, Interrupted. Um, the line "my bones are tired" are from a song by Jewel "Daddy" off the only album I like by her, "Pieces of you" Go review now, please. And I promise the next update won't take as freakin long!

Love,

May l.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: So…this was a very very long update. I'm sorry. My internet died and then I just got lazy.

To my lovely reviewers:

Vic:

Thanks!

Whimsical Firefly

Thanks so much! I'm really sorry for screwing up your name. ((blush))

Fledge:

It's good to know the rating's okay. Yes, she is ABLE to lift the curse, but I'm not going to tell you if she's actually going to do it. It matters what my values about looks end up to be. J Harry and co. will probably not make a cameo. I mean, I couldn't even think of _where _I'd put them in where it would make sense. But I guess I could try. You'll see what happens to Dominic…Thanks so much!

MissBlueAngel:

Fleur is in her early twenties, I think about 24…maybe twenty three. Yeah, that sounds right.

Lena:

Thank you, here some more!

Bea

Being a freshman sucks. Erp.

Sadistic Shadow:

No Bill/Fleur in this fic, I'm afraid. I like Nino too much. Maybe I'll write a Bill/Fleur one shot just for you though!

Thanks everyone!

Chapter 5

She hugged Gabrielle tight, her girlish perfume swirling and dizzying her as she backed away, whispering a sorrowful farewell.

"Don't worry, Gabrielle," She said softly to the sullen look that had crossed her sister's face, "I'm going to get out of that place soon, and I'll come and we'll go back to the house. It'll be like old times, okay?"

She nodded, and Fleur was aware of the fact that her sister didn't believe a word of it, but Fleur decided she would try and keep her promise this time.

"Goodbye Nino." Gabrielle cooed, smile drawing nearer, "Nice meeting you."

"You too, Gabrielle." He replied, and Fleur observed with relief he stifled back a laugh.

"So, can we just apparate, or…" Nino began, but Fleur shook her head happily.

"No, of course not. You cannot apparate onto any private school's grounds." She said, and sighed, "We have to take a train. We can apparate to the station though."

He smiled brightly, "Shall we?"

The Easter Portrait. The photo had fallen out of her wallet when she was digging through it for _just one more _euro to buy her train ticket. Wrinkled, bent, forgotten, until that moment.

Nino spotted it immediately, and bent over to pick it up. She nearly stopped him, but decided against it.

He looked at it, a confused smiled crinkling from his lips.

"Relatives of yours?" He asked warmly, buzzing her blood as his hand brushed against hers to hand it back.

She stared at it. She had to be about 15 or 16, in a peach gown, holding a small barely smiling Gabrielle, whose dress was puffy and laughably floral. Her mother stood behind her in a dress that was quite simple but a bit too revealing for a woman of her age, her face was sour and quite unattractive in the picture, drowned in blush, lipstick, eye shadow-the works.

Her mother always made her go down to that man's house in stiff dresses that itched to get and Easter portrait to hang on the wall, above the fireplace. This was the last one taken before HE came.

She observed herself in the picture. Glowing skin, sleek blond hair…she was smiling, looking so happy, waving now and then. Garbielle would smile for a moment than try to escape her grip, but never succeeded. But her mother looked miserable, looking oddly like and upset toad.

"Fleur, the train is leaving!" Nino exclaimed and she ran after him.

She got a few strange looks as they took their seats, though she was used to it. She had been stared at her whole life.

"That picture…who was it?" Nino asked daringly, and she decided to confuse him, slpping the photo out of her pocket.

"My mother, me, Gabrielle," She Smiled, looking up at Nino's shocked expression.

She looked beautiful, as she always had, in the picture. So of course he was a bit shocked.

He looked at it closely. "You? That's you?"

"Yes, I know. I do look a bit different don't I?" She laughed knowing the discomfort she was causing him.

She didn't know where the wave of cruelty had come from. Bitterness long forgotten but arisen again by the memories that smacked her across the face from this picture perhaps were the cause.

"What-What happened?" He asked gingerly, looking at her softly.

He didn't looked at her in disgust, like the others on the train did. He was looking at her in a way that made her want to confess everything to him. She hoped he didn't smile for everyone the way he did for her.

But no, no this wasn't something she was ready to share. She yanked the picture from his hands.

"Later, Nino." She whispered, and he nodded.

They made the subject lighter, talking of silly things, laughed, even made up life stories for everyone on the train in hushed voices. From the lady with the peacock dress to the boy with a finger missing who wore horrid purple socks.

They had been on the train from quite while. Most of the other occupants had gotten off, though Nino and Fleur still had an hour or so.

Fleur was half asleep, leaning her head on her seat. The cold pleather was not that comfortable, but other places could be worse.

"Tell me about Russia, Nino."

"Well, it wasn't that exciting. Very cold. When I was young there, there was a lot of horrible things going on with the muggle government."

"Really? Like what." She yawned, looking up at him, her eyes heavy.

"Communism was just falling." He said, and she nodded, pretending she knew what he was talking about.

"Did you like it?"

"In more recent years, I suppose it was all right. But it was such a sad country. Everyone just seemed to be…so cold. Because…I don't know. I can't describe it. It was my home though, for most of my life. So I think of it often. There's a lot of beauty within the sorrow that still exists there, I guess." Fleur really did think everything he said was so thoughtful sounding, no matter how many pauses or "errs" there were.

"What made you come to France?" She asked, and he did not smile like he usually did when he was explaining things to her.

"My mother decided she wanted to spend our last three years together in France. It was 'my true home' she said. She wanted to show me everything, before she died. She was very ill. We came here, and lived with my aunt for that time. We did see almost everything in Paris. She grew up in Montmartre. When she died, she left me a lot of money. I didn't know there was that much to make in the ministry. I was set for a while. I couldn't bare to go back to Russia. So I used the money I had and settled into an apartment near St. Mungo's coincidently. I didn't really need a job, because of my inheritence. I'm sort of a painter. So I decided to take up volunteer work." He paused for a moment, looking down at Fleur, who was so surprised that they had gone from barely on speaking terms to almost friends. To spouting memories. "I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about that."

She smiled, and without really realizing she was doing it, reached up to touch his cheek, "I like to listen to you Nino."

She felt his face get hot, and dropped her hand embarrassed, "I'm sorry."

He shrugged, trying to hide his red face, "It's all right." He tried to move on, inquiring her, "Have you always lived in France?"

"Yes. Not as exciting as your life." She chuckled.

"Fleur, I can tell you have a lot of secrets. I'm sure your life has been a lot more exciting than mine." He said, "I can tell…you've been hurt a lot."

She didn't say anything, just gazed out the window.

His expression became that of worry, "I'm sorry. Did I just push the boundary that we're supposed to have…I'm supposed to keep as your guide?"

"You don't think I'm insane, do you?"

"No!" He said loudly, then quieted his voice, "No. I…like I said. I think you've been hurt."

"Well, as long as you don't think I'm crazy, you're not really my guide." She declared, and he gave her a puzzled look.

"No?"

"No, I think we can be friends. That way our conversations can stay just as interesting as this one." She decided happily, and he nodded.

"I think you'll make a good friend."

"Brigette, next stop!" Declared the loudspeaker. Her and Nino were in the middle of a conversation about the death eaters were evil or afraid. Did people have the choice as to how brave they were, or was it something they were born with?

"Isn't this our stop?" Nino asked. Fleur looked out upon the small village that held the secret passageway to Beauxbatons, memories flooding back.

"Do you want to get off? Because I don't really want to get off." She said, and he smiled quite wide.

"Dinner sound good about now?" He asked, pointing to the little pub across the way.

"Sure, they have good fries." She giggled as they hopped off the train

Was that chapter boring? Suggestions? REVIEW! Please


	6. Chapter 6

AN: yay! I love updates. Sorry it took a while, but they usually do, so. Ah. They make me happy anyway, though. I hope this fic is still good. And not too, I don't know, fast or unrealistic. Tell me what you think.

Reviewers who I love dearly:

Whimsical Firefly:

I dunno, making her dizzy just sounded blah. I thought I'd make up a word. Hehe thanks so much though.

Knightwho saysni:

Aw, Vic, you rock.

Fledge:

Too sappy? Never! I love the sap. Though I can't necessarily guarantee that's how it ends Thanks though. : )

Emma Lovegood:

Oh! Okay. Thanks.

MissBlueAngel:

Thank you! And thanks for being quite a faithful reader over time, even with my other fics.. I really appreciate.

Echarpe:

I will take you up on the offer by the way. And thanks.

Chapter 6

"You know what I really hate about pubs like this?"

"What?" Nino chuckled, taking a bite of his burger.

"No matter how you try, you walk out smelling like a cheeseburger and rum."

"Thanks, Fleur." Nino laughed, looking down at his burger.

"No, it always really got on my nerves because I'd come in smelling quite nice, you know, and then walk out, well…" Fleur cracked a grin looking at the puzzled expression on Nino's face.

"I suppose I will never quite understand the female gender."

"Nor I the male." She replied, trying to cover the bitterness of it with a grin, but did not succeed and she stuffed a few fries in her mouth.

"Well, as strange as it may sound…I never really understood my own gender. My father walked out on me as a kid. And…well, men do such disgusting awful things everyday, you know? I wish I could somehow make it up to girls the way men treat them sometimes…"

She stiffened and looked at him quite solemnly.

"I'm sorry, things just keep coming…"

She smiled, and touched his knee softly beneath the table, "No, don't worry. Let's go somewhere else after this, okay?"

The park was quite dark, though the summer twilight still lingered.

"I feel like a homeless person, being here at this time at night." Fleur said, and Nino laughed.

"Seriously, we were supposed to head back a while ago."

"Ah, well, just say I fell ill…or something." At this, Nino laughed again, and Fleur giggled too. Everything seems really funny at three in the morning in an abandoned park. Especially when you had a bit of rum only just a while ago. Actually a good amount of rum.

"Nino, will you do a big favor?"

Nino was still laughing, "What?"

"No really, this is a very big favor."

He stopped laughing, and looked at her seriously. He grabbed her arm, and sat her down on the bench. "Yeah?"

"Remember what I said in the pub?"

He nodded.

"Nino, I want you to…"

He looked at her, eyes twinkling from what the moon showed of his freckled face

"Smell my hair."

At this point he started to laugh hysterically.

"No really!" She whined and he continued to just laugh.

When she stuck her head in his face he began to snort, "Gosh, how much did you drink?"

She giggled, "I barely had any! I really want to know if my hair smells bad. Besides, I'm not the one laughing like a bloody hyena."

He sighed, still smiling, "You're just are really funny. Okay, come here."

He grabbed her head lightly and brought it to his nose to sniff.

"Mmm. It smells like a coconut. And rum. That's good. I like both things."

"I use coconut shampoo. So that makes sense." She said, keeping her head on his shoulder.

"You know, I hardly ever drink. Ever." Nino said, and Fleur looked at him skeptically.

"You seem like quite the natural drunk."

"Oh, I'm not drunk. I am just tipsy, I suppose."

She smiled, enjoying his warmth on her face, "All right. What's the weirdest thing you've ever done while you were intoxicated?"

He chuckled, "Errrr…..I dunno. I believe I kissed my best friend once, while quite drunk. And I jumped out a window with an umbrella. I broke my arm. I think that was the time when I was eight and I broke into my fathers liquor cabinet. So it was sort of an accident. I think those are the only time I've actually gotten drunk anyway."

Fleur was giggling, "I ate lipstick. I thought I was quite scandalous. Oh, and I tell people I love them a lot."

"mmmm. Well, Fleur, I think…"

"What?" She looked up at him, and he was sort of more intoxicating then the rum had been.

"I think I could love you, Fleur." Her heart sort of stopped in her chest in the shock of what had sprung from his mouth, "I just wish I could…I could…"

She looked at him sadly.

"I wish I could make you happy. Why are you this way Fleur? I want to make you better."

The alcohol must have made them much more honest, for things just flowed from Ninos mouth, things he was usually too shy to say. And Fleur told him the horrors of her past, things she was usually to scared and ashamed to share with anyone.

He was crying with her when she finished, her face in his chest, his arms around her.

"I wish I could take back what he did to you. I want to take it back. I wish I wasn't bad…"

"You…you are showing me. Men aren't all bad, you aren't bad at all…"

Tears were still running from her when he spoke.

"My father…she made him leave. My mother made him leave."

She sniffled, "Why?"

"He did it too."

"Did what too? What do you mean?"

His chest was pounding and heaving with sobs, and she put her hands to his neck, "Nino?"

"He did what your step father did to you. He raped me…when…when we were alone. And my…my mother made him leave. I didn't w-want him to go, but I didn't want him to hurt me any more. He hit her too. But she had loved him…and I made him go away…I made him hit her…and I don't want to be him…"

"No, no, it's not your fault. It's not."

Both of them were so weak, there in eachothers arms, and yet Fleur felt more safe than she ever had in her life.

"We can do it together." She whispered to him, and she kissed him softly on the cheek.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being so stupid like this…" He muttered, and she shook her head.

"No. You're stronger than me, you've kept going. I just broke down."

He didn't say anything. Instead he leaned in and placed his lips on hers.

AN: sorry for the complete dripping sap. I just felt it was needed after the complete dripping angst. Please, tell me what you think. : ) I do LOVE reviews, you know.


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